


Handling It

by julienwrites



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: F/M, Firehouse 51 as Family (Chicago Fire), Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Sylvie Brett, Sick Matthew Casey, Sickfic, brettsey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25940344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julienwrites/pseuds/julienwrites
Summary: Matt's under the weather, and Sylvie's there to help.
Relationships: Sylvie Brett/Matthew Casey
Comments: 11
Kudos: 108





	Handling It

**Author's Note:**

> I can't even begin to know where this really fits into the timeline, so I'm just going to leave it up to everyone's imagination, just know it's at least a year after Dawson leaves. Established Brettsey.

Matthew Casey isn’t someone who complains- never has been. He’s learned to open up more and more in his life, House 51’s been the biggest driving factor. But he still is very hyper aware of not wanting to be a bother. He can handle things on his own, even if there are people willing to help- he’d rather suffer in silence. 

Today is no different. When he wakes up cocooned in his warm bed, the first thing he notices is that he’s still freezing. He’d gone to bed early the night before, skipping out on Molly’s with a lame excuse of paperwork. He’d come straight home, cold and tired, and fallen into bed. He coughs and winces at how terribly sore his throat is, and then he’s hit with body aches. Casey rubs his face and blinks up at the ceiling. 

Knowing he can’t miss his shift, the blonde pulls himself up out of bed and heads to the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth, not particularly hungry. By the time he’s dressed and grabbing his bag, he feels a little better...maybe, at least, he’s going to tell himself that. He can’t _afford_ to be sick, there’s too much to do. 

The drive over to the firehouse is slow due to most people’s driving in the snow. Even in Chicago people drive slowly, and Casey’s never understood it. It’s just snow, they won’t die if they drive over 30. Yawning as he parks, Casey gets himself out of his truck, wanting to go straight to his office. He’s in no mood to deal with people today. Well...except Sylvie, who he knows he's disappointed by avoiding the outing last night, avoiding staying over at her place. They’ve been together a little over seven months, and he’s not sure he’s ever been happier. Dawson hasn’t crossed his mind in almost a year. 

Eyes scanning the room, he hears her voice before he sees her. She’s talking to Kidd and Severide, and, deciding to push his aches and pains away, Matt wanders over to where they’re sitting at the table. 

“Hey babe,” Sylvie grins, patting the table as an invitation for him to sit. Matt sits and wraps an arm around her, pressing a quick kiss to her hair. Even if they’re dating, they try to respect their work and act (mostly) professional. 

“Hi, have fun last night?” He asks, clearing his throat when the last word starts to grow hoarse. She nods, a piece of her hair falling in her face. 

“Of course, but I missed you,” she looks at him, bagel still in her hand, and frowns. “You okay? You look…” she searches for the word, and Matt nods. 

“I’m fine, just tired.” It’s half true at least. He is still tired, even after almost 12 hours of sleep. His head gives a slight throb and he blinks hard. “Anything interesting happen last night?” 

Sylvie shrugs. “Not much time report, though Severide did down four shots the quickest out of him, Herrman and Cruz,” she smirks, nose wrinkling adorably. 

“Good for you,” he directs to the man opposite him. 

“As if I _wouldn’t_ win,” Sev mocks. “Yeah right.” 

Matt can’t suppress the shiver that crawls up his spine, jaw clenching as he tries desperately not to let his body tremble. “I’m going to go to my office for a bit, before briefing,” he says, standing up suddenly. At the odd looks from the table, he squeezes Sylvie’s shoulder and then makes his way out. 

Shutting the door quietly behind him, Matt sighs and coughs into his arm, feeling the last bit of energy drain out of him. He hopes to god that their calls today won’t be too terrible, he’s not sure he has it in him to really captain everyone. He sits on his bunk, eyes closing at the pain in his throat and ache running through his body. He realizes he still hasn’t taken his jacket off, and soon after, he doesn’t want to. He does anyway. Shifting to be horizontal, he curls himself up and starts to drift. 

A knock at the door jolts him awake. Matt sits up, face bleary and hair just a little messy thanks to him having not had it cut an extra week. Sylvie slips through the door, her lips turned down. “You look tired,” she murmurs, walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed. “You feeling okay?” She rests a cool hand on his warm cheek. 

“I’m fine,” Casey says, pulling away quickly. And,  _ okay _ , don’t make sudden movements, he thinks. Dizziness passes through him. “Didn’t sleep well last night he tacks on, knowing he has to give some kind of explanation.

“ _ Don’t _ give me that crap, Case,” Sylvie whispers, hand going to his forehead this time. “You’re warm. How bad do you feel?” She asks, and Casey sighs, knowing he can’t get out of it. Of all the people, he had to fall in love with a paramedic. 

“Just a little under the weather. Achy, sore throat, tired,” he assures, not wanting to go into details about how exhausted and weak he feels, like he’s swallowing glass and kind of nauseous. “I’ll be fine, I just need to take some Motrin or something.” 

“I’m sorry you feel so bad,” Sylvie responds, as if she can read his mind. They’ve worked together long enough, dated long enough that he’s sure she probably can. “Here, roll over, I can rub your back.” 

It’s something that makes his heart stutter, even know, as if he’s still that touch starved little boy, watching his family unravel before him. His first instinct is to shrug her off and tell her she doesn’t have to, but something in Casey aches for it, so he does as he’s told. Gently, he feels her Rick the back of his shirt up, both of them knowing full well they could get a call at any second, and then her hand slips under the white fabric, nails scratching gently at the overly warm skin. 

“Mm,” Casey mumbles, face buried in the small pillow. “F-Feels good.” Brett’s good at doing this, at knowing what he needs, and this is no exception. It feels just as intimate as when she gives his back a little scratch at the table, or rubs her fingers through his hair when they’re on a date or at Molly’s. 

He’s not sure when he’s shut his eyes, but they eventually flutter back open when he has to cough, and he feels her continue to rub against his back lazily. “Mind if I take your temp? I know you don’t want to tell Boden, and I won’t tell him, but let me at least put my mind at ease?” She suggests, kissing his temple. He gives her a small nod and watches her hop up and walk out. 

****

Sylvie worries her lip as she walks up to the ambo, stepping inside to look in the drawers. 

“Whatcha’ doing?” Stella’s voice pierced through her thoughts, making the blonde jump. 

“Oh…” She’s sure Matt would be less than thrilled if the house knew. “Don’t spread it around, but Matt’s not feeling great. Just came to snag a thermometer,” she admits, snatching up one of the plastic white instruments from the second metal drawer.

“I knew there was something up with him earlier. That sucks. A cold? Or?” 

Sylvie makes a face as she gets down from the large vehicle. “Probably the flu. Definitely has a fever, and he’s wiped. Drifted off for a while. I’m just glad we haven’t been called ou-“ 

“Engine 51, Truck 81, Squad 3, Ambulance 61, Battalion 25!” 

_ Fuck _ . 

****

As they ride back to the station, Casey can feel all eyes on him throughout the truck. The call hadn’t been bad- a house fire with no casualties, and they’d managed to contain it fairly quickly. But Matt knew he’d not been his usual self, as hard as he’d tried. He’d tried to be loud while calling out orders, he’d tried to appear completely fine, but neither had been successful. By the time they’d jumped back in the truck, Casey had gone quiet, ignoring everyone’s excitement about a good call. 

“You okay?” Severide asks as they walk back into the common room after shedding their equipment. Casey looks up to see all his men looking at him, even if they were trying to be subtle. 

“I’m _fine_.” It comes out a little harsher than he intends, but Matt can't find himself to care. He's freezing, he feels awful, and he now has paperwork to do. His annoyance seems to do the trick for most, and everyone but Sev goes on about their business. Casey blinks and suddenly he's being ushered to the side by his best friend. “Seriously Case…” 

“Can you stop aski-,” the Captain speaks, but barely manages a few words before he feels the urge to cough bubbling up in his chest. Turning as far away as he can, Matt lifts the crook of his elbow to his mouth and coughs for what feels like ages. When he gets control of himself, everyone's staring at him, even with Kelly blocking his form, and Brett's right next to him. 

“Office,” Sylvie directs, and both she and Severide move with Casey, who's a little pale, cheeks tinged with red hue. “Time to take your temp.” 

“Want me to talk to Boden?” 

Casey looks up at Severide as they all walk into his office. “I’m fine Kel, really, I just need some water.” Even to himself, he can hear how tired he sounds, how swollen his throat is. Maybe it’s time to admit defeat. Before he can say anything else, Brett is popping the thermometer into his mouth, sliding it under his tongue. Her face tells him everything he needs to know -  _ talk and you’re getting a lecture.  _

Matt lets them both (gently) push him to sit on the bed, and when the thermometer beeps and Sylvie takes it, he watches her grimace. “101.7, you’re definitely off the rest of this shift, tomorrow too.” 

“Sylv-“ 

“You’d say it to me…” she cut in, and Severide nodded. 

“Me too. You’re not invincible Matt. I’ll go talk to Boden,” Severide walks out before the other man can protest. Ten minutes later he’s walking back in, Sylvie rubbing her hand up and down Casey’s back. 

“Casey, you’re gone till Thursday. Brett, you’ve been excused to get him home and make sure he doesn’t pass out,” The man informs. “Go home and rest Matt. You  _ need _ it,” he adds, feeling fondness toward his friend. Minutes after Kelly leaves the office, Matt and Sylvie make their way out of the office, Matt pale and obviously unwell, with Sylvie’s arm around his wait. 

“Feel better Cap!” Mouch calls, making the man grit his teeth. 

“They care about you. Don’t be so embarrassed. Everyone gets sick sometimes, even perfect Matthew Casey,” Sylvie assures, rubbing his shoulder as they make their way back to her car. 


End file.
